


Make our dreams come true…

by stjarna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bus Kids - Freeform, F/M, Family, Fitz's dad speculations, Friendship, Gen, Highly speculative, Love, May contain some spoilers, Season 4(B) finale speculations, all kinds of speculations, chosen family, happy end, i just want them to be happy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9584177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: I just want Fitzsimmons to be happy and Fitz's backstory still has me thinking and so... this just sort of happened: A speculative Season 4(B) finale fic with sappy happy end, 'cause dammit I want them to be happy.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey,” Daisy says quietly, walking up to the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” Jemma replies, forcing a sad smile.

“Quite the day, eh?”

Jemma scoffs and takes a sip from her tea. “Seems like _every_ day for us qualifies as ‘quite the day.’”

“True dat,” Daisy replies, grabbing a cookie from a plate on the counter.

“At least we got May back,” Jemma remarks, shrugging slightly.

“Yeah,” Daisy agrees. “It’ll be rough for her though. Recovery. I mean, the way he messed with her brain...”  
  
Jemma sighs deeply. “Who knows, maybe Coulson… I mean, he went through something similar. Maybe he can help her,” she ponders.

“I’m sure he’s more than willing to,” Daisy says.

“Yes,” Jemma adds quietly.

“And hey,” Daisy says, a fake chipper tone in her voice, “the big crazy baddie is dead, the guy who turned out to be less of an asshat than we thought is in custody and seemingly quite willing to talk, Inhumans have been saved from extinction. Maybe it’s not all so bad.”

Jemma chuckles briefly. “No, it’s not. It’s just—” She exhales slowly.

“ _Quite_ the day,” Daisy concludes.

“Exactly.”

“Where’s Fitz?” Daisy asks.

“Still down at the morgue,” Jemma replies, staring into her tea cup.

“So he hasn’t spoken with his—”

“I think right now it’s easier to stare at the dead than go and talk to … _him_ ,” Jemma replies. “It’s a lot to process.”

“Sure is,” Daisy mumbles quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

“How’s he doing?” Daisy asks, gesturing at Radcliffe’s lifeless body with her head.

“Still dead,” Fitz replies dryly from where he’s sitting on the floor, his back resting against the wall. His legs are pulled up slightly and he’s resting his arms on his knees.

“Yay for me,” Daisy exclaims sarcastically, raising her fist in a sad triumph.

A short puff of air, barely recognizable as a chuckle, escapes Fitz’s lips.

Daisy sits down next to him.

For a while it seems as if all sound has been absorbed in the sterile, green-tiled room.

“It’s weird, isn’t it,” Fitz suddenly breaks the silence, staring at the gurney in front of them. “Your dad. We thought he was this mad psychopath scientist. Our enemy. Out to destroy us.”

He exhales, shrugging his shoulders. “And then he fought on our side. Saved us. Saved _you_. And it turned out that all he wanted in his life was to find you, protect you.”

Taking a deep breath, he adds, “Now _my_ dad,” he scoffs, “put me down. Called me not good enough. An idiot. Stupid.”

He clicks his tongue. “I hated him all my life. Now it turns out that he pushed me away to protect me from his enemies. He _wanted_ me to hate him so I wouldn’t try to find him. He _wanted_ me to stay dumb so my brain wouldn’t get me into the danger his got him into. He tried to protect me.”

“It was a _really_ weird strategy though,” Daisy remarks. “Kinda fucked up.”

Fitz chuckles sadly. “And then there’s _him_ ,” he says, gesturing at Radcliffe’s corpse. “He pretended to be on our side. He pretended to be… to be the father I didn’t have. And turns out he was a mad psychopath scientist. Our enemy.”

Daisy sighs. “People are … weird and complicated as fuck!”

Fitz laughs quietly. “Hear hear,” he mutters.

“Are you going to talk to him?” Daisy asks.

Fitz shrugs. “I don’t know. Not now. Not yet.”

“Seems fair.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “Thank you,” he says, “for what you did today.” He bites his lower lip. “‘Cause I don’t think I could have done it. I had it in me when it was his LMD, but with _him_ … I don’t think I could have—”

“When I fought my mothe— Jiaying,” Daisy interrupts him. “I tried… I tried to do it, but it was—” She pauses, exhaling deeply. “And then Cal stepped in and he… he told me ‘You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to live with that pain. _I_ will.’”

Daisy turns her head sideways to look at Fitz. “I didn’t want you to have to live with that pain either.” She shrugs. “That’s what family is for, Fitz. ‘Cause in case you didn’t know: you’re my family.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up slightly. He extends one fist in Daisy’s direction. “I’ve always wanted a little sister,” he says quietly.

Daisy grins and accepts his fistbump invitation. “I’m gonna be the best little sister ever. I’m gonna annoy the fuck out of you.”

Fitz laughs quietly. “Haven’t you always?” he replies, raising his eyebrows.

Daisy punches his arm and he snickers briefly. Then she rests her head on his shoulder, and he leans his against hers.

Silence settles on the room once more, but it is more serene than it had been before.

They both look up when the door to the morgue opens and Jemma steps in, smiling shyly.

“Mind if I join you?” she asks.

“Actually,” Daisy replies, pushing herself up using the wall for support. “I think I’m gonna head outta here. Morgues are not really my thing.” She tilts her head slightly. “No offence, Simmons, I know you like this kinda stuff.”

“Haha,” Jemma says sarcastically. “I’m a biochemist, I occasionally have to—”

“At ease, agent,” Daisy interrupts her. “I was kidding… Wanna give you two some alone time… with the corpses. Yeah… I can’t make this less awkward. There’s just no way. G’night, bro,” she adds, turning to Fitz and extending her fist.

“Good night, Daisy,” Fitz replies, smiling at her and accepting her fistbump.

“So, may I at least join _you_?” Jemma asks once Daisy has left the room.

Fitz gets up and shakes his head. “Not here,” he replies. He takes her hand in his. “Let’s get away,” he whispers, gazing into her eyes.

Jemma smiles. “I’d love that.”

“Now,” he exclaims and steps forward toward the door, pulling her along.

“Fitz,” Jemma exclaims, following him, surprised. “What are you doing? We’re going to have to ask for vacation time, and we need time to book a flight and hotel and—”

“No,” Fitz objects matter-of-factly. “Now! Come on,” he adds, smiling mischievously.

He pulls her into the lab, heading for his desk.

“What are you—?” Jemma tries to ask, but stops when she sees him grabbing the VR headgear with his free hand, pulling out a second identical piece from the top drawer.

“You built a second one?” she observes, surprised.

“Yes,” Fitz replies, letting go of her hand to grab his laptop. “After I showed you the device for the first time and you mentioned wanting to get away, to a meadow or a cottage. Here,” he adds, putting the device on her head, “sit down.” He gestures at the floor by the wall.

“Apparently it’s a day for sitting on the floor,” Jemma remarks dryly and sits down, resting her back against the wall.

Fitz sits down next to her with his laptop on his legs, the second headpiece resting on his head.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Sure,” Jemma replies, shrugging her shoulders.

He focuses on his laptop, typing quickly. “How’s this?” Fitz asks after hitting enter.

“Oh Fitz,” Jemma exclaims, looking at a lush green meadow bathed in sunlight. “It’s beautiful.”

She hears birds in the distance and a slight breeze brushes her hair out of her face.

“What about now?” she hears Fitz say.

She turns her head to where he has appeared out of nowhere next to her.

“Perfect,” she smiles.

“Turn around,” Fitz suggests, turning 180 degrees himself.

Jemma follows suit. “Oh,” she exclaims. “A cottage.”

She takes in the view. The small, grey stone building. The white windows. The dark grey roof. The trees scattered in front of the house. The colorful, blooming flowers in a small garden patch to the side.

“Wanna look inside?” Fitz asks.

“Can we?” Jemma asks in return, smiling happily.

“Umm, that’s a rhetorical question, right?” Fitz replies. “I programmed the damn thing.”

They walk up to the building. Jemma hears the crunching of their footsteps on the graveled path.

Fitz opens the wooden front door to reveal a narrow hallway. Stairs with a heavy wooden railing lead up to the second floor.

“It’s beautiful,” she marvels. “So detailed. Look at those old photographs on the walls!”

“Yes,” Fitz remarks. “The images of the exterior and interior were high res. Made it easier to build the program.”

“Images?” Jemma asks, surprised, looking at Fitz. “This is modeled after a real cottage?”

“Yes,” Fitz says quietly. “It’s in Perthshire. Like you wanted.”

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma smiles, taking another step inside, her fingers gliding across the stone wall. “It’s perfect.”

“I put in an offer a few weeks ago.”

“What?” Jemma exclaims, turning her head to face him.

“Realtor told me that the sellers accepted it,” Fitz replies. “And I managed to give him the okay before things went completely crazy around here the last few days.”

“You?” she mutters, looking around the hallway. “You bought—”

“I got a good financing plan.”

“Fitz?” She turns back to face him.

He takes a deep breath, looking at her with blue puppy eyes. “I know this is big. And I know maybe I should have mentioned something, but—” He sighs. “I feel like our job… we try to move our relationship forward and our job keeps pushing our relationship back and… I’m so tired of that. I… I want to move forward. One step into our future. You and me. Perthshire.” He pauses. “You’ve… you’ve brought up that cottage a few times. More times than you maybe realize and… I…I just—”

She can’t help but smile, her eyes wandering to the staircase. “How many bedrooms does it have?”

“Three,” Fitz explains. “Figured one bedroom, one guest room, and an office or small lab or something.”

“Or a nursery,” Jemma replies as in a dream, still looking to the upstairs.

“Is that something you—that you—?” She can hear the nervousness in his tone, and turns around to face him.

“Don’t you?” she asks, feeling her heart beat anxiously in her chest.

He shrugs. “I do… but I’m… I’m scared,” he stammers. “I’m worried that… what if I’ll… what if I’ll—?”

She quickly walks over to him and cups his face, gazing reassuringly into his eyes. “You’ll be an _amazing_ father, Fitz.”

“How can you know that?” he asks, his eyes shimmering sadly. “Mine was… he was… well, you know how he was. And I… I just don’t know how to be a father.”

Jemma chuckles, tears in her eyes. “Yes,” she replies. “Yes, you do. You may not have had a father, Fitz, but you had a parent. An _amazing_ parent. And she taught you so much! As long as you are the man you _are_ , Fitz, you will be an amazing father. Our baby will be so lucky! There’s no doubt in my mind!”

A smile flashes across his face. “You’ve really thought about this, eh?” he asks, wrapping his arms around her.

“Yes,” Jemma admits. “Especially in the last few days.”

Fitz sighs. “Yeah, I know,” he agrees. “Everything that happened, with Radcliffe, my dad… definitely had me thinking about that kinda stuff too.”

Jemma tilts her head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No?” Fitz asks, wrinkling his forehead. “What then?”

Jemma takes a deep breath. She reaches for his hand, pulling it closer, and—standing slightly sideways—places it on her flat stomach, covering his hand with hers.

Then she looks up into his eyes. They’re staring down at her, wide-eyed.

Fitz reaches for his forehead and disappears in front of her eyes.

Jemma inhales slowly before removing her headgear as well.

They’re back in the lab, sitting next to each other.

Fitz lays his headgear down on the floor and places his laptop next to it before turning sideways to look at her.

He’s breathing heavily, wetting his lips that tremble nervously. “Jemma? Are you saying?”

“Yes.”

“But… but we’ve—”

“Well,” Jemma shrugs. “Abstinence aside—which we _certainly_ have not been practicing—no method is 100% foolproof.” She tilts her head to the side. “Add to that the stress we’ve been in and me _possibly_ forgetting one or two—”

He pulls his legs up, resting his arms on his knees and leaning forward. His breathing is fast and shallow and Jemma can tell that he’s fighting back tears.

Hesitantly, she puts her hand on his back. “Fitz, please tell me this is a happy panic attack and not—”

He looks at her, tears streaming down his face, but a smile brightening his eyes.

He nods. “It is… It is, I just...” He leans forward to kiss her, resting his head against her forehead. “We’re having a baby?”

Her cheeks almost hurt from smiling so widely. “Yes, we are,” she replies happily.

He straightens back up slightly, his thumb caressing the soft skin below her eyes. “So S.H.I.E.L.D.?” he asks.

“Will no longer be a priority in my life,” Jemma replies honestly.

The corners of his mouth quirk up slightly. “I know a cute cottage in Perthshire.”

“How many bedrooms?” she teases him, before leaning in to kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so many Fitz's Dad theories out there right now, and to be honest, all of them sound possible. For this fic I chose to go with one theory that I think is maybe not quite as likely but I'd love to see how they might pull it off on the show (I kept that part of my story deliberately vague though... 'cause I'm not sure how to pull it off ;) )
> 
> If you want a fic in which Fitz calms down a panicked Jemma about being a parent, read ["Tick. Tick. Tick. Boom!"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8057326) (shameless self-promotion ;) )


End file.
